Cold, Dizzy
by copperdream
Summary: [A faithful retelling of Nier: Automata routes A-E.] 9S has been assigned as the support unit to 2B, which is all well and fine except she's curt, apathetic, and always leaving him in the dust. Oh, and he has downloaded all her attack data to meticulous measures and he does not know why. Not like she's ever going to attack him, right?
1. Chapter I: Prologue 1

**Cold, Dizzy**

**Routes A/B**

**Chapter I: Prologue 1**

**9S**

I'm hanging out.

Humans did this to pass time when they had nothing else to do. The concept of boredom is one I experience now and then, but not often. It's a rarity . . . considering how much crap the commander has for me to do. She's a total slave driver.

Still. If, on a rare occasion, I do have time to myself: I tend to do work-related stuff anyway.

I don't know how much time I've spent sneaking up on machine life forms. I can hack my way inside of them, but controlling them isn't easy, especially since they're all so varied and the techniques to understand their algorithms tend to change, not just model to model, but with time, almost as if they adapt in order to—

Right.

It's about time for the mission to start.

I'm hanging out but the enemy is near. In particular, a standard small stubby in front of me is attempting to revive another machine. The unresponsive machine is a medium biped model the former machine calls its "brother". It's cute, in a sad sort of way.

It struggles its way around the lower platform. If machine lifeforms were smarter, they'd recognise their ability to blend in with the environment. This world is full of scraps, and in particular, this factory is covered in machine lifeforms that are no longer operational.

I'm a YoHRa unit and I'm supposed to kill this machine. It's just waddling around in plain daylight, not bothering to utilize the fact that it's a similar colour to its surroundings. Its rusted. So are its surroundings. There are also machine bodies littered all around it.

The opportunity is right there. It couldn't possibly be in a more convenient setting.

It's frustrating to watch. And, yeah. A little sad.

But it doesn't notice me, so I don't attack. It's busy pretending it has a brother. Where did it even hear about a concept like that?

Machines are peculiar, but most of all they are repetitive. And this one's fixating on something it must've heard once, years ago—perhaps thousands of years ago—and now it babbles nonsense.

It can't possibly think it has a brother.

Familial concepts are beyond its motor processing.

Still, all the same, this machine's pretty much harmless. Picking it off from above like a crow isn't really my thing. Though maybe I could hack into it and see what's what?

It's functioning in an odd way, after all. It has found itself some oil and has gotten a bucket to carry it.

Pretty unusual. Unnecessary behaviour for a machine that is made only to kill androids.

I lean my head on Pod 153, my tactical support unit, since it has been bobbing around my ear for some time.

How do small stubbies stand getting around? They are _so_ slow.

And it's going even slower, trying not to spill. So it has the logical capabilities to know how to control its own speed in order to prevent liquid from spilling. Likely, this knowledge—if I can even call it that—was developed for combat. Sneaking up on the enemy and all that.

Machines are fascinating.

"Proposal: Unit 9S should destroy the machine life form below." My pod startles me out of my thoughts. Its voice—feminine and pleasant—vibrates in my skull since it's pressed against me.

I move my head off it. "You think so? It's kinda just toddling around."

"Machines are the enemy."

I guess I shouldn't find the enemy amusing. But in order to better kill machine life forms, I have to know how they work. Exactly how they work. Gathering intel is the primary job of an S model, after all, and in that class, I'm one of the best—if not the best.

"Pod. I'm going to analyse it." If it's going to die, I should at least get information from it.

"Affirmative."

Pod 153 projects a screen for me to gather the enemy's information. I hover the screen in front of me, aimed at the small machine, which is now pouring the oil over the larger machine.

It really is trying to revive the other machine with that?

"Doesn't matter how much oil you give him, little guy. You can't make a machine your brother." If it wasn't the enemy, and it wouldn't start flailing those stupid arms at me as soon as I came close, I'd consider asking it how it proposes to make another machine familial to it—and why.

But I know it's just spouting random crap.

A sound, distant and familiar, makes me pause my analysis.

In the sky, past the greying clouds. From over my shoulder, the vapour trails in the air are like silver linings.

Arial units. The YoHRa squadron is here.

"Well, looks like it's time." I close the scanner and get to my feet.

Pod 153 hovers near me. The signal of an incoming transmission sounds as I stretch into the air.

"Operator 21O to 9S. Come in, 9S." My operator's voice is clear. Transmission seems smooth and in order, so that's good. Sometimes the enemy tries to block our signals but there doesn't seem to be any machine life forms in the area like that.

I tug my gloves on tighter. "9S here. Go ahead."

"The YoHRa troops have commenced their descent." Her voice is collected as usual. "Disable the enemy base's defense systems immediately."

"Roger that!" I kick the ladder at my feet and it dislodges. My flight unit Ho229 is waiting for me at the base of the ladder.

"Query: Does 9S understand the details of the mission?" Pod 153 asks.

"I sure do."

"Unit 9S possesses unwavering nonchalance even when alone in the enemy's base."

I descend the ladder. "Not unwavering courage or unwavering gallantry, but unwavering nonchalance? Pod, really?"

"It is unusual. All YoHRa models are equipped to feel fear for their own safety."

"Yeah? Being in the middle of enemy territory is my job, remember?" I check the settings on my flight unit to make sure I have full range of motion and weaponry. My pod is right to be a little concerned. I've found a safe pocket to wait out at, but once I'm in the air I'm gonna get swarmed by pesky small flyer machines. They are such a pain. "The 'S' refers to scanner, sure, but it could also be for scout or even _es_pionage, which is really what I do anyway." I keep my voice lighthearted, out of habit. "Besides, haven't you noticed, Pod? I'm nimble as hell."

"Unit 9S is also modest."

"Since when did you become capable of sarcasm? Successful sarcasm, at that?" Everything seems green for my flight unit.

"Since the beginning of our partnership, 9S. It would seem the personality storage area of a pod is malleable, and it turns out you have an influential personality."

"Don't report that to the commander. She may do a full data overhaul on you—and then who would I joke with? Certainly not Operator 21O. Nope. I'll never laugh again."

"Unit 9S is quite melodramatic within enemy lines."

Well, joking with my pod is still a bit hit or miss. Oh, well.

I step inside my flight unit and take a breath.

"Pod, the YoHRa units I'll be supporting—have I worked with any of them before?"

"Unit 9S has had previous operations with units 2B and 4B of this YoHRa squadron."

"Oh, yeah. I worked with 4B during the last mission. Can't recall 2B, though."

Pod 153 begins double checking the flight unit's settings without being prompted. I should've offered the prompt. I guess having a support unit for a support unit isn't all that bad.

"It was perhaps a long time ago," Pod 153 says.

"Ah, makes sense."

My pod finishes the check. "Caution: Unit 9S's pulse is increasing."

"Yeah. It always does that before a mission."

"Affirmative."

* * *

**2B**

Prior to the mission, 11B told me if I was to return to headquarters alive, to tell 16D she was sorry.

It was like 11B already knew what would happen.

There were six units assigned to this mission. The YoHRa squadron led by Unit 1D has been obliterated—aside from me.

I survived. I've become excellent at surviving.

The enemy knew we were coming. Their anti-air defenses were nothing much, likely due to the work of an S model, but there was something else. Something merciless. Our flight units were taken down one by one, picked off like a game.

It wasn't like anything I'd seen before.

Our target—my target—is a goliath class machine life form. Is it possible the target was solely responsible for the decimation of the squad? How can one machine aim through the fog like that? It clearly was not relying on visuals.

I've assumed captain's duties because there's no one else left.

There's no one to command. I suppose this makes things . . . easier.

For now.

Operator 6O did give me orders to rendevous with unit 9S.

It's an order I know I have to follow. It's an order I want to follow, despite everything.

So he was to be apart of this mission, too.

I sigh.

Around me, the bodies of the machine life forms I've encountered upon landing are scattered about. There are more bodies here than the ones I've killed, but I've added to the count.

It's like a junkyard. That's all that lies around me. Junk that was once animated, and junk that needs to die.

I flex my hands and let my weapons float behind me for now. Something tells me I'll be doing a lot more killing than this, but I've at least cleared this section. I'm in the centre of enemy lines, and I'm alone.

This is how I'm used to it for the most part. At least, lately.

My pod, Pod 042, seems to have calmed down after the commotion. "Query: Why did unit 2B break through a wall in order to get to the enemy?"

"It was the only way."

"This pod has suspicions about that."

I hesitate. "It was the quickest way."

"Serious damage could have resulted. This pod cautions unit 2B to proceed with more care from now on."

"I'll consider it."

The factory is dark.

Operator 6O instructed me, in her usual chipper manner, to find 9S and gather information on the terrain of this factory.

It's a bleak, rusty place. It smells of oil and metal. It stirs something innate in me. Likely, the urge to kill the ones responsible for the odour.

I run my way through corridor after corridor, through a facility that is only kept running by those damned machine life forms, on autopilot rather than will.

Mindless and relentless, machines are the worst kind of enemy. They can't be reasoned with and they can't be stopped.

Pod 042 zips along behind me, keeping up. It provides me backup firepower, but as I am equipped as a battle class unit, it's not usually necessary. Still, any support is appreciated, especially when things get hectic.

My sensors go haywire for a moment, and instinct has me dodge.

The wall to my left shatters open with a force I can't fathom.

I roll out of the way and get to my feet in the next instant.

"Is that our target?"

It's like an arm. A giant machine arm with a buzz saw. Machines come in all shapes and forms—after all, their builds are limitless—but this is just irritating.

It jabs at me again, the buzzing maddening.

"Negative," Pod 042 informs me. "This enemy is unrelated. Proposal: Dispatch it as swiftly as possible."

"You don't say."

This isn't the machine that took out the squadron. It doesn't have any form of long range lasers attached. Being large and sharp are its only weapons—and that really isn't concerning to me.

My small sword materializes in my hands and I attack. Pod 042 provides firing support, darting around here and there to avoid getting clobbered by the wild movements of the machine. It spins, a vortex of blades and chaos, and whenever it pauses, I find the opening.

My arms shake and my hands go numb. It's all apart of battle. It's all apart of YoHRa's cause. What we fight for, and what we die for.

How many battles has it been for something like this to become only a nuisance?

I fight, mostly on instinct, because battles like this have become so ingrained in me. Without fighting, I'd be lost. I'd be itching, writhing, wanting.

It's a certain high. The way my hands move on their own. The way my boots touch the ground when I leap back and forth. The way my head rattles with the sound of that saw and the firing of my pod, and—

For a moment, I'm lost.

The machine reels back, ready to slam down on me. I'm ready for it—I always am—but a new light erupts.

Explosions, white and red and angry, but somehow incandescent as hope.

A series of them obliterate the machine arm. I get out of the way as the dislodged saw rolls past me, and the unit responsible for the assist clears the fog they created from their attack.

Unit 9S is in a flight unit. So he found me.

The tendrils of fog dissipate around us as he descends, still latched into the flight unit, but getting close enough for us to speak without shouting.

"Better make sure he's actually dead next time," 9S says. "That was dangerous, ma'am."

I'm not sure if I was about to die. That's how battles go in most cases. You just die. You don't see it coming, and you're gone.

As far as I knew, I'd had it all under control.

It doesn't matter now.

9S has found me. We've rendezvoused. Part one of my mission is complete, and in some ways, this is the hardest part.

He hovers in front of me, locked in the flight unit, arms hidden. He looks almost sacrificial, and seeing an android inside the flight unit is an oddly defenseless sight.

"You're 2B, right?"

Or maybe it's just 9S that's defenseless.

"My name's 9S." His voice is young and calm. "I'm here to provide support." There has always been something lulling about it.

"Copy that."

He gives a little smile. "So, was that big ol' buzz saw the goliath you came here to take out?"

"No. Just another defensive system."

His smile flickers. "Oh. Well, uh, I guess we have to find the target then, huh?" He rolls his head from side to side. "I've got a flight unit, so I'll take a look around the perimeter."

"All right." I turn away. "I'll work my way inside from the ground."

I hear him leave as I step my way through the rubble created from the battle. He vanishes as quick as he came. If not for the flight unit, he would be following behind me, watching my back, on my heels.

Unit 042 follows me close. "Unit 9S."

"What about him?"

"Unit 2B has not been partnered with this unit in quite some time."

"Yes, it has been a while."

To see him now, he is the same, and yet he is entirely different.

And as I scour through the factory, 9S transmits to me intermittently—common for support units such as him, who give updates as needed—and yet 9S does it in a different way than other S models.

"2B? Uh, ma'am?" He proceeds like an uncertain child.

"What is it?"

"I was going to send you the map data I collected earlier."

"Do it."

Timid and oddly shy—often, he acts in a way which YoHRa units have no benefit from.

But he is always helpful.

I carry on through the factory. Machines lay in wait, in the darker corners of the interior and on the walkways outside. They are everywhere, crowded and unified in groups. They drop from seemingly nowhere. Do they think they are the ones on the hunt?

I cut through them, entering the familiar frenzy. Hacking away, slashing and winding my way through. I create a carnage, a mess of machine body parts, slamming one machine into another, until they all stop moving.

When I am unoccupied, 9S speaks again. As if watching me, knowing when I have a free moment.

"You know, ma'am, I'm glad you're here."

"Why?"

"Scanners like me mostly work alone. Scouting out enemy lines and all that?" His voice has risen—he is clearly content to be able to speak to someone. "I don't usually get a partner. It's kinda fun!"

"Emotions are prohibited."

He gives a sharp inhale. "Sorry, ma'am!"

"And another thing. Stop calling me 'ma'am'."

"Huh?"

"It's unnecessary."

The jocosity is back in his voice. "All right, then. 2B it is!"

I cut the channel and proceed.

Neither of us have addressed the fallen squadron I was apart of. It must be on his mind, but he knows now is not the time to bring it up.

It won't provide any new information anyway. His operator would've already told him the details. And besides, we both know the thing responsible for taking out the squadron is the goliath class we are searching for.

Pod 042 speaks, but only so I can hear—in case 9S is still tapped in despite me ending the transmission. "Observing unit 2B's interactions with unit 9S, it appears unit 2B would rather face a colossal machine than rendezvous with this particular unit."

"Pod, is this relevant to our mission?" Do I have to berate everything around me, all the time?

"It affects your emotional regulation capabilities."

"It will be fine."

Standard small flyers have gathered. I move out of the way of their projectiles, bee-lining until I can pierce my sword through them. As another wave of enemies come, I switch to my heavy sword and time my attacks to get most of them at once. It's heavy, harder to use, but the satisfaction of slicing through a horde of machines is well worth it.

The machines stumble into one another in a confused frenzy. I don't stop attacking. Machines aren't the only things that can be relentless.

I don't stop until there is only a pile of dead machines. I take in a deep breath and then continue.

The air in the factory is becoming more hot. After running through a place like this, I'm going to need a maintenance check.

As a support unit, 9S specialises in maintenance. Will 9S be assigned to me? Will he be the one doing checks on me again?

Pod 042 lingers around my right shoulder. "Unit 2B's heart rate has accelerated beyond normal battle conditions."

"I'm in the middle of a furnace."

"Noted."

I carry on.

In the distance, the glowing red eyes of more machines hover.

There's never any end to them.

I adjust my visor. "This place sure is big."

9S homes in. "I guess humans used to use it as a weapons factory, but now it's just crawling with machines."

Crawling with machines is exactly right. This place is filthy.

"The enemy seems to have re-purposed the facility to increase their overall machine production." He sounds fascinated, but also wry—it's so familiar it makes me want to shut the channel again.

Instead, I say, "So if we don't destroy it, they'll just keep coming."

"Exactly. Though that's how machines work in general. Their strength is in their numbers, especially for the small stubbies and bipedal units. My operator, wise and beautiful is she, put it well: machines aren't unlike insects. They—"

"9S?"

"Ah, yeah?"

"Trying to focus, here."

"Right. Sorry!"

I engage with the machines, spinning my way through them. My shoulders and back ache, but it's a pain I'm used to and it's a pain I can tolerate. It's how I'm made. To keep going, no matter what. I'm designed to die as efficiently as I'm designed to kill.

I make my way through this wave and once I'm finished, I run down a set of stairs. I come to a room filled with walkways and lava. It's hot and dense and I grimace as I dart my way down the paths.

A recording blasts from speakers somewhere. It's so unexpected I come to a stop.

My voice leaves me, wistful: "What?"

9S is quick to speak. "It's just accessing random, nonsensical data from the old world. There's no actual meaning behind anything machines do."

The voice carries on through the speakers, until it finally ends with the message: "Thank-you for another day of hard work."

Ignore it, 9S said. Nonsense.

Why are machines this way? So inherently frustrating?

An impossible enemy.

But I drown myself in them, day after day.

9S crackles back on. "So, there's even lava in this facility, huh?" He can't seem to hold back.

"What about it?"

"Humans used to produce bricks and other materials from lava-powered factories. Not to mention, they extracted minerals for more uses. It could also generate electricity for them. You know, if humans return—"

"9S."

"Oh, yeah. I'm done."

I leap down to a lower floor and then pass through to another room. The air here is different. Lighter and cooler. I must be near the exit.

More machines, these ones with armour covering their compartmentalized frames. My pod advises me of them, and that it is unable to damage the enemies unless I shatter their shields. I do. I've met machines like this before—the ones who think—is think the correct word?—to arm themselves with a shield.

When it comes to battle tactics, machines are eerily adaptable. Everything else, however, suffers. They are just programmed the way they are programmed, to ensure all androids are wiped off the face of the earth, and that is all.

I slice through them, my breathing hitching.

Another wave down.

I step over their bodies with an aggravated sigh.

Pod 042 hovers in front of me, but does not speak.

I step through the next door, and finally—finally, I am rewarded with the outside air.

But if I'm outside and I've explored every possible corner I had access to in the factory, then where—?

I walk a little ways, around a red catwalk, and connect to 9S. "I've surveyed the entire factory but couldn't find anything resembling our target."

He sounds apprehensive. "Maybe they, I don't know, moved it somewhere?"

That's unlikely, and we both know it.

Especially since something took down the squadron I'd been apart of. Whatever that thing is, it didn't flee. With that much attack power, it would have no reason to.

I run along the catwalk until I reach the other side of this structure. Before I descend, a flurry of movement startles me. Wing beats pulse through the air, and birds—white like pearls, dreamlike against such a harsh reality—are taking flight.

"Is that—?"

"You mean the birds?" 9S says. "Yeah, there's more plants and animals here than there used to be. Probably because the environment's changed."

Ahead, the sea spreads out. It's white fog, endless, stitching the ocean and sky together. It's a cloudy day, but the factory behind me is spouting smoke and smog high into the air. The birds disappear behind the blend.

It's dreary.

It's quiet.

I stand, feeling suspended somehow, like whatever I stand on beneath my boots is an illusion.

Should I ask 9S about any signs of machines?

Of course not. If he could sense them, he would've already notified me.

I run along the provided path. It stretches out into the mist.

9S comes in. "There should be another facility across that bridge. It's a bit of a hike, but should we check it out?" He pauses. "It's not like command to get a location wrong. I guess even they get bad intel from time to time, huh?"

I walk for a while longer, and then falter.

Something isn't right.

Usually, machines attack nonstop. They've been pestering me during this whole mission.

Why are they scarce now?

My target has to be here. The YoHRa squadron was not wiped out by something small and scared.

"Hmm," I say. "I wouldn't bet on that."

Movement—gears grinding and the screeching of metal—assembles around me.

On either side, two long machine arms with buzz saws attached have begun to move. More colossal weapons. The fog is so thick, they'd been difficult to detect—not to mention, they'd been still as if they were dead.

Machine life forms, playing dead?

I've already fought one of these. I can handle two.

Pod 042 readies for attack. "Alert: High-powered jamming detected. No response from long-range communications."

I've lost communication with 9S.

I'm on my own, again.

And that's just fine.

* * *

**A/N:** Hurray! I've finally let my love for this game consume me entirely.

BTW: Why doesn't Nier: Automata have its own section on FF? It's a totally different game than the original!

Anyway, this is going to be a retelling of Automata, all routes, with perspectives from all three main characters—and maybe others as little bonuses. While it's going to be faithful to the original, there will be LOTS added, especially once things get rolling and our characters are on earth and I don't have to stick to each scene in consecutive order (like the prologue is kinda hard to stray off or add anything here).

And since Automata is a pretty depressing experience overall, I've tried to make the characters a bit wry-humour-funnier (namely 2B because 9S is already pretty comical, at least, uh, at first) for some relief. I'l also be adding more A2 because her in-game screen time is scarce D: (and she's awesome.)

Let me know how you liked the first half of the prologue :)


	2. Chapter I: Prologue 2

**Cold, Dizzy**

**Routes A/B**

**Chapter I: Prologue 2**

**2B**

Communications with unit 9S have been jammed.

I'll have to rely on myself.

"Doesn't matter. I'll just take them out." I'm equipped as a battle unit and this is what battle units are designed to do.

I've learned enough from the first buzz saw. Machines are mostly predictable. These two are of the same build and they will have similar mannerisms. If I can read them, this will be a cinch.

I ready my sword, gripping it tight in my hands. Once I kill this thing, I'm done. The mission will be over, and 9S and I can go home.

Screw these machines.

They swing sporadic, heavy. I keep a level head and dodge when I need to. Sometimes they lose power or strength, and it's at these times I go haywire on them. I slash until I think my hands are going to drop my sword.

My pod supports me with firepower and with the occasional laser—but using the latter weapon requires recharge time we may not necessarily have time to wait for. Pod 042 cues me towards the second buzz saw, keeping me alert of its whereabouts while I focus on the first.

But it doesn't last long.

The assault ends almost as fast as it started—and not because I've destroyed them.

They retreat, summoned by the machine in front of the factory.

Always there.

The machine—the target—was here all along.

I walked on it.

I go cold. The fear we've been imprinted with for our own survival instinct kicks in.

I walked on it without knowing.

Are the machines getting smarter?

Hiding in the fog is one thing, but to hide as a structure—

What are these things?

It was beneath my feet as I spoke to 9S. As I realised the birds and the promise of life forms other than machines being able to survive on this planet. I walked with my back to it and mused its whereabouts.

These machines. They need to die. They need to be wiped out before they keep finding new ways to kill us.

It moves. The ground shudders beneath me until my legs may give out from the unstable foundation.

Massive. Goliath is an understatement. This unit is unlike anything I've seen before.

It's the unit that destroyed the squadron.

Something like this is capable.

It has a small head, but its body is wide and tall. It is made of cranes, metal, and lunacy. The buzz saws become its arms. Steam sprays off it in bursts as it stands, revealing jointed legs. Disturbing as it is gargantuan, it stomps closer, the water around us spanning out as if fleeing.

And then it leaps.

The damn thing leaps.

It lands in front of me, somehow not splitting the earth in two. Water sprays around me and I stagger back for a moment.

It's huge.

There's no denying that.

But I can do this.

It's slow and stupid, and I can kill it. I have to. I have to.

9S' voice spears through me—"Wow, 2B. Losing your edge? How did you let something the size of a tower sneak up on you?"—but it's not really his voice. He's not here. Our communications have been cut off, and besides, we aren't familiar enough for him to joke like that with me.

Still, now that something this obvious has appeared, 9S will find me. He'd have to be back at the Bunker in space not to see this.

It attacks.

Projectiles swarm the air. The machine's aim is spontaneous but that's no issue for it, because it can cover a wide area. I instruct my pod to fire and fire and not to stop. My pod is my best weapon right now because I can't reach the damn thing.

But then it begins attacking with those buzz saw arms, and I find opportunities to wear it down with my sword. Every time it lashes at me, it takes time for it to raise its limbs. It's just like before. If I can avoid getting crushed, I can kill it by hacking it down, gradual and determined.

I have to do this.

We have to go home.

I'm worn out, exhausted. This is as draining mentally as it is physically. Standing in the shadow of something so daunting can almost be seen as hopeless. But I can do this, because it is just a machine, and if I break it down into smaller parts—well, that's exactly what I have to do.

It's manageable.

I just need to render its arms useless, and then I can use its own body against it. I'll need to get on it again and attack it right up close and personal.

My name sounds from above.

9S has found me.

In his flight unit, he has opened fire on the goliath class machine.

"What's your status?" he calls down to me.

I ready myself as the machine pulls its arms back, intent for another blow. "This is the target. I'm going to destroy it."

"Uh, right. I'll provide support!"

The machine life form ducks down and disappears.

It didn't die.

What is it doing?

"2B, run! It's going to come up from below!" 9S is directly above me.

I bolt.

Just as 9S predicted, the machine bursts up from beneath the foundation, but it misses me. I've gotten out of range in time.

"This machine's the biggest whack-a-mole I've ever seen," 9S says.

"Whack-a-what?"

"It's an old human game that—y'know what? We gotta focus."

When 9S realises that, it's pretty serious.

"Keep shooting, 9S! I'll wear it down with pod fire."

He does so. With both our pod's firepower combined with the flight unit's lasers, this thing should be taken down. We just have to keep consistent.

Six missiles rise from the machine's back. My pulse hammers in my head. Shit. Now there's—

9S' voice changes—soft but assured. "Hacking in."

I keep my pod firing as 9S focuses on hacking the missile command. If he succeeds, he can turn the missiles on—

They change course.

So fast. He did it already.

He has become alarmingly efficient at hacking. And something such as this?

The missiles make contact with the machine life form. It staggers.

Dust, smoke, and debris.

A major blow. With this, we might've stopped its movements. Maybe even killed it.

"9S." I say his name without thinking, but I need some kind of confirmation.

Is it over?

But the machine lifts its arm through the fire and smoke. It comes at me, straight for its target. Is it trying to take me down with it?

"Boost!" 9S appears beside it, ramming his flight unit into the arm and swaying it off course.

While 9S is spiralling through the air, the machine hits him from behind with its other arm. He comes apart from his flight unit and my pulse hammers harder. He lands on top of the machine, somewhere. Somewhere.

No.

Shit.

He's not going to be okay.

Not from a hit like that.

"9S!"

The machine life form's eyes, once red, fade. It slumps over. Has it shut down? It isn't dead, but it's definitely used a lot of power.

Pod 042 says, "9S' black box signal detected. No response to communications."

He's still alive.

I have to get to 9S.

"I'm going after him." I dart onto the machine, using the walkway I'd walked on before when I didn't know what this thing was. I dash up stairs and ascend ladders, my mind a frenzy.

The goliath machine comes back on. It moves upright, but it can't hurt me if I'm on it.

9S has to be okay. We were so close to completing this mission. I did not meet him just for this. My breathing comes out hoarse and desperate.

"Send a support request to command!" I power up a set of stairs. How tall is this damn thing?

"Negative. Communications have been jammed."

Some small stubby machines try to intercept me, but I slash through them without concern. They are nothing.

I need 9S to be okay.

I reach the top, exhausted. The wind catches me. The air is crisp, but it smells of oil.

He's here, lying on his back.

Machine life forms are swarming towards him. They get in my way, so I cut them down. "I have to help 9S." My voice shakes, my chest expands. It's like something is closing in on me. My focal point is 9S, but I have to clear away the machines first.

His pod helps by shooting at them, slowing them down.

I finally clear the machines, blasting them all to pieces, and I stand panting for a moment. I'm dizzy.

I rush to 9S.

He's not in good shape. He's missing his left arm and leg. His skin is torn and he doesn't appear conscious.

I drop beside him. "I have to repair him." I pick up his head, supporting it with a hand, and he comes to. His cough is weak and he tries to speak, but nothing coherent comes out. My other hand jumps here and there—his neck, his chest, his shoulder. I don't know how to comfort him and I don't know if I'm hurting him. "Pod, get me staunching gel and logic-virus vaccines. Then access the—"

Pod 042 floats closer. "Inadvisable. The subject's vital signs are too poor to attempt field repair in the current—"

"Shut up! Just do what I say!"

My pod goes silent. 9S coughs again and I hold him. He's becoming more alert.

"2B." He manages to speak now, but it looks like its taking all his energy. "Just go."

"You shut up too." I bow my head, closer to him.

He doesn't understand. No one really does. Not unless they've been where I've been.

He grabs my wrist and I startle.

"We . . . we're soldiers. We take . . . pride in our service." His voice is husky, pained. There is, etched in the struggles of his speech, a fear I can't stand to hear.

I don't want to hear these words from him.

The words ring true. They do. Deep and resonating.

And yet, at the same time, they make me want to scream.

Behind me, 9S' flight unit is summoned. He has called his unit.

"Ho229 flight unit. Command 677 received," Pod 042 says. "Usage rights transferred from 9S to 2B. Requesting acknowledgment."

I'm shaking. Can 9S feel how hard I'm shaking?

I don't want this.

"Please," he says.

I grip his hand hard until I know it must be hurting him.

And then I let go.

"Alright." I let his head down.

Behind his visor, he has likely shut his eyes. He is still and silent, the rise and fall of his chest faint.

I can finish this fast.

And then we'll go back to the bunker and repair him.

I hurry to the flight unit.

I have to be fast.

* * *

"This pod recognizes unit 2B's behaviour as erratic." Pod 042 is in my ear as I use the flight unit to release an array of bullets onto the goliath class machine. I haven't stopped shooting since getting into the air. It's like my hands cannot release the trigger.

This flight unit is also equipped with a sword, and at any chance I can get close, I do. I pierce as much as I can, any part of the machine I can.

I need this machine to go down already. I need it to die.

"Unit 9S also acted in a strange manner earlier. Sacrificing himself in order to ensure the well being of another android is unusual behaviour that goes against an android's own survival instinct." Pod 042 doesn't know when to shut up. "The survival of 9S would be more beneficial to command, as well, considering he has gathered data on a goliath class machine life form such as this."

"Pod, focus on firing."

9S is an unusual unit.

I knew it the day we were first assigned to work together.

I was partnered with him precisely because he's so unusual.

Is it a blessing? A curse? Is it both?

The machine life form is speaking. Words bleed out of it, strange and rattled.

It sounds like it is saying, "Kill."

My sensors spike at the noise.

"It talks?" I sound far-away even to my own ears. "I didn't know the machines had that kind of intelligence."

A transmission signals, and 9S's voice covers me, warm but weak. "2B. I found a weakness in the target. Hacking in . . . to provide support."

He's awake. He's still fighting. What the hell is he thinking, exerting energy into something like hacking when he's in such a state?

Reckless. Why does he have to be reckless like this?

I keep firing, hoping to bring this thing down before 9S kills himself.

"2B." 9S keeps going on. "The control . . . on the enemy's upper arm . . . use your pod."

I want to scream at him to shut up, but he has something. He has something that can win this.

"Should be able to . . . take it over."

"I told you to shut up!"

"Control . . . of upper arm . . . seized from enemy unit." His voice is static. "Marking weak point."

He won't listen anyway. He'll keep going until he wins, no matter the cost.

I inhale, shaking and unstable. "Got it." I narrow in on the arm. "Pod, seize its control system!"

"Affirmative." My pod hovers close. "Infiltrating enemy sub-unit."

I keep shooting. My body is numb, tingling.

"Behaviour table adjusted."

On and on, the bullets go. The machine fires a laser and I dodge without thinking. It's all so simple, but it takes time. So much damn time.

"Balance controls overridden."

It's tedious and meaningless to fight this long and slow when I already know I'll win.

But will I win in time?

"Enemy unit subjugation complete."

The arm is suspended next to me.

It is mine.

I use it. I use it at full discretion, swinging it towards its old owner. I beat the goliath class unit with its right arm, swinging it wildly. I'm careful to avoid hitting the top where 9S is.

But everywhere else is fair game.

It staggers.

It releases more missiles.

And I dive down for it, passing the missiles before they can home in on me.

I release from the flight unit, steadying for an attack directly for its face. "Would you just die already!"

And I land, piercing my sword into the machine's eye.

Success. A direct hit to its eye.

But I'm thrown offside, rolling onto the machine's back.

The machine slumps. I come to a stop.

* * *

I breathe heavy and hard. The cold metal of the machine presses to my cheek. I'm lightheaded. I'm exhausted. This has to be it. It has to be dead.

Something lands on my hand and a strained laugh brings me back into focus.

I lift my head.

9S.

I've landed near 9S, and he has crawled to me. He's smiling. He does that in the strangest times.

I struggle to get up. He holds my elbow and I fall onto his shoulder.

"Talk about bringing the battle to them, huh, 2B?" He's still not in any state to talk, but he keeps ignoring that.

We're not safe. This machine may not be dead, and 9S needs to be repaired as soon as possible.

"Contact command. Request assistance."

"No." There's a whimsical quality to him as he peers at me—it's almost eerie, the calmness he keeps against the pain he's in. "It doesn't look like that's . . . going to be necessary."

And it happens, slow and at once. Three other goliath class machine life forms, the same model as the one we're on top of, ascend from the water. They are far off, but they are coming.

They intone, together, in unison, a haunting chorus.

"Kill. Kill. Kill."

9S' grip on my arm tightens, but other than that, there's no indication of fear.

But of course there is.

There always is.

"Oh, great." I grit my teeth. We were screwed from the start.

The goliath machines slowly advance, chanting that one word, that one promise.

9S and I let go of each other, sitting on our own.

"I don't imagine that,"—9S coughs into his shoulder—"this is going to end well."

The chorus is ghostly and final. Voices of machines. Of course, this is what they would say. They are nightmares made to kill us. Our own personal demons.

9S pulls out his black box. A cube, black with a bluish-white under glow, is held tight in his gloved hand.

I go still.

"The black box," he says. "It's ready."

My mind flitters through possibilities. Anything. Anything but this. We can fight more. He can hack them. We can take one over to fight the others. We can run.

But I know there's no other way. We are depleted.

"Right." I pull out my own black box and it lights up.

9S bows his head. "Requesting destruction of enemy hostiles via black box reaction."

There's a silence before his operator responds. "Request accepted."

9S lifts his head and smiles. "2B. It was an honour to fight with you. Truly."

I grip my black box tight—tight enough to shatter it on my own, maybe. "The honour was mine."

We bring our black boxes together, and take the machine life forms down with us.

* * *

**A/N:** Betcha didn't see that coming.

Nawt.

Anyway, prologue is finito! Look forward to some upcoming original Bunker scenes, woohoooo. I really anticipate having fun with 9S up there.

Also, if you can think of any easy-to-miss-dialogue I may miss in the future, let me know! I'm not going to be using every original line, but sometimes they are great for providing content to build on. And let me know if you have a favourite 9S/2B or A2-anyone missable moment. I'm trying to keep the most memorable ones.

Thanks to anyone who reviewed and/or favourited this story. Encouragement is super helpful :)


	3. Chapter I: Bunker 1

**Cold, Dizzy**

**Routes A/B**

**Chapter I: Bunker 1**

**9S**

"Looks like all systems are almost a go."

"Why are you telling me that?" Operator 61O is rarely found anywhere else aside from her station in the control room. She's always at her corner desk ("With the best view," she says—of what? The commander?) with her head in diagrams and documents and communications. I guess, like me, she's a bit of an information freak, but the stuff that fascinates her isn't the stuff that fascinates me.

Still, for an operator, she does have an almost scanner-like intense curiosity. When she wants to.

"Because." I lean next to her. "Weren't you worried?" I've found her, for once, in the common area.

When YoHRa units have some downtime, there's the option of socialising with other members. Usually this occurs in the common area unless particular androids are close—then, sometimes, they spend time in each other's rooms.

Some YoHRa members like to spend time alone so we're provided books and the like, and we have options to do relaxing activities that humans used to partake in, like bathing or eating.

We don't need to do this stuff, but we are capable.

We've been designed to be as human-like as possible in certain terms, and yet in other ways—like our combat capabilities—we are totally on another level. I guess we wouldn't be very good soldiers if we were limited to human capabilities. I mean, they've been driven to the moon, after all.

Still. They were efficient enough to create soldiers like us to protect them, so I'd say that's impressive enough.

"9S, you make rash decisions on the battlefield, but not once have any of those decisions not benefited YoHRa," my operator says.

I pause. "I think you're saying this as a compliment, but your twisty way of wording it makes it sound like you are trying to insult me."

"I am merely stating a fact. Anyway, you still haven't submitted the full details of the report. Why are you loafing around here when you should be finishing that up?"

"I've told you in person."

"I need written documentation."

"You are so picky." I try to sneak a peak at what she's reading. Operator 21O likes to pretend she's social, maybe. Instead of going to her room, she comes here to the common room to read books, but she doesn't actually like speaking to anyone. I should take the hint, but nah. She put herself here in the common room, so I'm gonna badger her.

This is a rare opportunity where she can't brush me off with the excuse she's working. Nope. Now she's trying to brush me off with the excuse that I should be working.

I fold my arms over my chest. "You know, none of the other scanners mention their operators need written documentation."

"That's because those scanner models know to do it, and don't have to be told."

She may have a point.

She turns the page in her book, sighs, and angles her head back to look at me. She moves aside some of her blond hair from over her face. She's not wearing her mask for once, either, so now I have the benefit of seeing her disdain and not just hearing it.

"9S, have you finished your maintenance?"

"Almost. What are you reading?"

"Data from the old world. It is a religious book humans used to abide by, I believe. That, or a parody of one. Humans are hard to understand."

"Right." See? That sort of thing bores me to tears. I'd rather find a machine to tinker with. I've asked the commander if we could transport a small machine life form up to the bunker—one without arms, even, that can't attack. A multi-tier type would be perfect.

But she said no.

I could've passed so many hours seeing what I could find out from the little guy. Poking around in machines' heads passes time way too fast, though. Sometimes I think I can spend more time in a machine than my own body. There's just so much to learn.

"Don't you think?" Operator 21O is frowning at me.

"Huh?" I clear my throat. "Sorry. What was that?"

"You should check in with the commander and see what your next assignment is."

She's really, really trying to get rid of me. "I will, but I'm still undergoing maintenance. Can't send me out already. Sheesh." I push off the wall and go around the table she's sitting at. There's a few other YoHRa members here, but none of them I really know. "Well, enjoy your book, Operator."

"Go submit that report."

I wave and step into the hall. The white walls gleam back at me. It's stuffy up here, and hard to relax.

Operator 21O. Man, is she hard to chip away at. That android is a stone slab.

I head down the hallway.

It's artificial up here. Nothing like Earth with the fresh air and rain and horizons. But now that we've secured a route through the factory, we have access to the areas around it—including another city. One of the B models was talking about giant trees and tall skyscrapers—and not just small animals like birds, but bigger ones like boars. I want to see a boar.

It sounds fascinating. Will I be assigned to do groundwork there? We seem to be expanding to that area, and gaining information is what I'm made for. I guess I should ask the commander about my next assignment, after all.

I pause. An android is standing not too far away, looking a little startled to see me.

She's a battle model with a black headband and short, white hair.

Oh.

Pod 153 informed me about what happened during the last mission. The reason I'm undergoing maintenance and all.

This must be YoHRa unit 2B. We went down together. Apparently we detonated our black boxes to save the operation.

I approach and smile at her. "So, mission complete and all that, huh? The goliaths were wiped out, and we secured a route into enemy territory. Now we can—"

"9S?"

I go quiet. The way she says my name nudges something in me. "Yeah?" I say.

"Thank-you."

I wait, uncertain.

"For uploading my data to the bunker."

That makes sense, then. She remembers the mission. "Um, I did that? Sorry, I don't remember." I give a shrug. "There wasn't a whole lot of bandwidth down there, you know? I probably only had enough time to back up your memories. Mine are only in tact up to the point just before we rendezvoused."

She averts her gaze for a moment, and then nods. "I see."

I press my hand to my shoulder. "Glory to mankind."

She mimics the gesture, standing tall. "Glory to mankind."

I continue down the hall.

* * *

I enter the control room.

The murmur of operators, the clicking of keys, and the bustle of soldiers below going over battle formations.

Control is always hectic. Everyone's always so serious.

On the main screen, which spans the width of the entire far wall, is a rendition of the alien's attack. The start of humanity fleeing to the moon, and the commencement of Project YoHRa—us androids who were made to protect humans, destroy all the machines, and give the humans their home back.

Are they really playing that? Like we don't know what we're fighting for?

I take the elevator down, passing the operators. 21O works at one of the terminals here. From here, she communicates directly to me, wherever I am on earth. She can pull up almost any information on the fly. Sometimes I don't even have to ask. My operator is awesome.

I get off the elevator at the circular lower level where the commander resides. I've never come to this area to find her absent. I'm not entirely sure if the commander sleeps, although we do need rest in order to recover and for general maintenance. Sleep mode is where all the strains of our efforts smooth out and we can be confident our systems are ready for the next mission.

Anyway, to no one's shock the commander is here, speaking to some operators.

She's probably not involved in an official meeting, because when she sees me, she nods. I guess that means I can stick around.

I stop a respectable distance away as to not make it obvious I want to eavesdrop. They are discussing something called a "camp". I toe at the floor and sigh. How long am I expected to wait? I know I just got here, but it's not all that exciting standing around.

Eventually, the commander excuses herself and turns to me. "9S. How is your maintenance going?"

"90 percent, Commander. One more rest and I'll be good to go."

Her voice is a whip, like usual. "I see. You and 2B made a good call back there, but remember to try not to put yourself in that type of situation."

I nod. Wasn't she the one who put us there, in the grand scheme of all things? There's only so much we can do in a situation that extreme.

No point in complaining to the commander.

"I'm planning on assigning you to support 2B during her next mission," she says.

"2B?"

"Yes. You worked well together in the last mission."

The android with a headband. She thanked me.

I shift my weight on either foot. I'll be getting her as a partner? "And what is our mission, Commander?"

"You've secured a new route into the city. There's an android in that city that I've worked with in the past." The commander hesitates. She's a tall android, and her hair is the longest of any of the models I've seen. Long, white, and elegant—but the commander is a hard ass so I try not to admire her too much. "Well, it may be best to discuss this with you when 2B is here. Seeing as I've assigned you to be her support, I'll have you perform a final check on her first thing tomorrow. Once the check is complete, tell her to speak to me and I will debrief you both."

I'll be going into the city and that's enough to motivate me. "Yes, Commander."

"Finish your maintenance in time for the mission tomorrow."

"Yes, Commander."

She turns back to the operators.

I return to the elevator. As it whirrs me up to the second floor, I rest my hands on the railing.

I'm getting a partner?

Why does a battle unit need a support unit? Will she need my hacking skills?

It sounds like it may be a complicated assignment.

Still, I'm always out scouting enemy behind lines and stuff. I don't often get a partner.

Won't it be kinda fun?

* * *

**2B**

My assignment will start soon, whatever it entails.

I'm almost ready. I just have a few checks to make. I've already been looked at by maintenance, but there's a chance something might've been missed. In that case, it's always a good idea to do a quick self check before heading out.

I lay back down. I've slept and I'm rested, so this should only take a few moments.

I shut my eyes.

And almost immediately when I do, I hear his voice.

"Sorry to barge in on—oh! Looks like you've already started."

It's 9S. He really did barge in. If I wasn't in dormant mode, I might've speared him through the head in alarm.

His footfalls sound next to me.

Why is he here?

If I wasn't dormant, my hands would curl into fists. It's the sensation that's tingling at my fingers.

"I'm here to provide some quick maintenance." Judging by his voice, he is standing over me. His presence can be overwhelming, sometimes.

He starts. He's hacking already, with little time for me to let the situation sink in. I feel him. Hot and abrupt, like a bolt.

He's in my awareness, pushing and pulling.

He doesn't understand how invasive hacking someone is. To him, it is entirely normal. He isn't forceful, but he is quick to connect. He slides in like be belongs. Considering how fast he took over the goliath machine's arm during the previous mission, this shouldn't surprise me.

It's an inexplicable feeling. I trust him and I know he's there, but if I didn't—this would be paralysing. Having someone moving inside me like this is terrifying, like something else is wearing my skin. From here, if he wanted, he could kill me with just a thought. He could make me do anything.

"Ma'am, can you hear me? I'm starting your boot sequence." His words are directly in my head.

"Yes."

"Good. First, you'll want to check your brightness settings." He gets right to work. "We don't want you to open your eyes and the world's too much, right? Especially in the bunker which is already blinding white." The bed depresses next to my hip, where he must've sat down.

Why is he sitting down next to me?

"Right then, let's get started. We'll go through each adjustment in order. As I said, let's start by getting the brightness set."

He shows me an image. It is the YoHRa symbol. It comes into focus, at first dim, and then at a comfortable place.

He makes a soft sound. "Okay, how does that look?

"It's fine."

"Roger that. Oh—and I should probably let you know that this entire process is being recorded for posterity." He's professional when he works—less teasing, as if he knows being inside another android's head is something that should be curt and done with. "Now let's take a look at your voice recognition settings. You can hear me fine now, right?"

His voice is one of the things that makes being hacked bearable. When the maintenance units do this, I am often unconscious. They are called in when the issue is large.

9S is designed to offer ongoing support, and an S unit who is assigned to another unit is often assigned to that unit multiple times. The reason for this is because when maintenance is done like this, it's often an uncomfortable experience for both parties.

Which of us finds it more uncomfortable, I wonder? Under these circumstances?

Still, his voice is something I hold onto during these times.

"2B?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to adjust anything? We could increase or decrease the volume. What do you think?"

"It's fine, 9S. There's something calming about your voice." I've said it out loud, and I don't know why.

"Oh! Uh, th-thank-you." He goes quiet for a moment. "Anyway! That takes care of the settings."

I don't reply.

"Er, hold on. Your self-destruct permissions are missing." He shifts on the bed. "Wait a sec, we need to restore those. I could set it for you, but you should probably do it yourself. Regulations and all, you know?"

"Right."

He guides me to the node and I restore the permissions.

"Okay, good. If things go wrong during an op, you may have to sacrifice yourself in order to finish it, so . . . anyway, once you're finished making any other adjustments, you can signal me to wake you up."

I lay for a while longer. He's still beside me. His hip is against mine. It has been a long time since 9S has performed any checks on me. He's always been thorough. A blessing, or a curse? Will I always ask myself this about him?

"Is everything good, ma'am? Any concerns?"

He wants to exit.

And I should let him. I should tell him to end the session, that everything is good.

Instead, I say, "9S. I have a concern. Physical sensations appear numb."

"Physical sensations? That's odd." He makes a little noise. "Well, I'm going to tap you on the shoulder. Let me know if you can feel it, okay?"

"Okay."

He taps my shoulder. "Did you feel that?"

"No."

"Really? That's weird. I'll try again." He taps my shoulder. "Now?"

"No."

He shifts on the bed again. "Really? You didn't feel anything just now?" He sets his hand on my shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze. "Can you feel that?"

I am relaxed and tense at the same time. His voice in my head, all in my head and unable to quiet, and his hand on my shoulder.

This isn't really fair of me, so I say, "Yes."

"Oh, good." He breathes out a sigh. "That's strange. I don't want to adjust your sensation tolerance too high, because then that would mean pain would be—well, way more painful than it needs to be. So, I'm gonna do a light tap again before I adjust anything." He taps my other shoulder. "Could you feel that?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Looks like it's resolved itself. I'll make a note of it though, in case it happens again. It could indicate a more serious issue." His hand leaves my shoulder as he stands up. "Okay, anything else?"

"No, we can finish."

"Okay."

He releases me and I twitch. Pressure fades like something has shattered and my eyes flash open.

He's standing above me with a little smile. "Morning."

My head is fuzzy. It's unusual to be alone in my own body after someone else has taken up space. I sit up, holding my head, and rub my eyes.

I find my visor and tie it on. "9S."

"The commander's put me in charge of your maintenance, ma'am. That means I'll be performing regular checks on you from now on."

I stand up. "I see."

He steps aside to give me more room. "Oh, don't worry. We 9S models are the best around, you know. Though I suppose we're not exactly known for our modesty."

I suppress a smile. "9S."

"Hm? What is it, ma'am?"

"Stop calling me 'ma'am'."

"Huh?"

I shake my head. "There's no need to be so formal."

"Oh. Alright. If you say so." He pauses. "Oh—I almost forgot. The commander was calling for you. We'd better go see what's up, ma—er, 2B."

He walks out ahead of me, his pod trailing after him.

I touch my shoulder, and then curl my hands into fists.

* * *

**AN:** 9S 9S-ing and 2B-2Bing.

I had lots of back and forth about where 9S should be touching during the "check" (especially since, in the game, he doesn't specify where he's touching after a while and then wonders if 2B will get angry at him), but it may be a bit too early for pervy 9S to appear. HE IS INNOCENT ... FOR NOW.


	4. Chapter I: Bunker 2

**Cold, Dizzy**

**Routes A/B**

**Chapter I: Bunker 2**

**2B**

9S hums as we take the elevator down in the control room. He leans against the side, arms crossed over his chest, breaking stance to wave at one of the operators—likely his own—but 9S is quite social among the YoHRa units, so it could simply be an android he knows from that.

The elevator reaches the base floor, and 9S follows me off.

The commander turns to us. She's standing at a terminal with a frown.

"Ah. 2B." She meets us halfway across the floor. "Maintenance finished?"

"Yes, Commander," I say.

"You detonated your black box in order to defeat the memory. Bold, but risky." She levels us with her usual incisive stare. "Try not to be so reckless next time."

"Understood."

"I know you're fresh out of maintenance, but I have another mission for you."

9S stands at my side. I'm hyper-aware of him although I should be completely focussed on the commander.

Our pods levitate behind us.

"I need you to head to the surface, rendezvous with the Resistance, and do some recon," the commander instructs.

9S tilts his head. "Doesn't YoHRa have a dedicated Resistance contact already?"

She puts a hand to her forehead. "We haven't been able to get in contact with them, so we'll need you to look into that as well."

"Understood," I say.

The commander nods and turns away. "Finish up whatever you need to do and head out as quick as possible."

As soon as her back is turned, 9S fist bumps his pod. I falter. He's not happy about the loss of the Resistance contact, I'm assuming. I hope.

A battle unit who is speaking to an operator catches sight of 9S. "Nines, how are you feeling?" she asks, as we pass.

"Oh, hey! Already heading back to the surface." He gives her a wave.

"Good luck! I'll be going down tomorrow."

"Maybe we'll run into each other. Glory to mankind!"

"Glory to mankind!"

How does he get anything done, being distracted like that?

We return to the elevator and 9S resumes humming.

My chest is tight. He hums away.

"9S, what is it?"

He jumps. "Huh?"

"You seem . . . happy about something."

He goes a little red. "Oh, sorry. It's just, the surface? That means we'll be getting flight units, huh?" He's unable to keep a grin off his face as we step from the elevator onto the balcony of the control room. "Better head for the hangar." He laughs. "Usually we can't get near flight units. They're way too expensive for us grunts. Too bad they can't mass produce these things yet."

I shouldn't have asked. "You were just in a flight unit three days ago."

He shrugs. "Well, yeah, but they're fun, aren't they ma—2B?"

"They are necessary, I suppose."

He gives me a weird look—as if I really am the odd one here—and gestures for me to head down the hallway first. I do and his footsteps echo behind me.

"Pod, do you think they've forgiven me yet?" 9S sounds pleased.

Pod 153 responds after a moment. "Proposal: Unit 9S should specify which individuals he is referring to."

"The YoHRa members responsible for the flight units. I kinda tampered with the last one I got, and . . ."

"No, I am sure they are still at odds with unit 9S for unauthorised actions, especially since the flight units have nothing to do with 9S' field of work."

I glance over my shoulder. "You tampered with a flight unit? Why?"

"It wasn't as effective as it could've been. Clearly. I wouldn't tweak a perfectly flawless design, or even a next-to-flawless design, but it goes to say—"

"Please do not do anything unnecessary to the flight units we are assigned."

"Fine, fine."

Pod 153 floats to my side. "Caution: Unit 9S was banned from the hangar for seven full days for his actions. He could not be trusted to stay away on his own, and so a physical ban was necessary."

"Hey!" 9S snatches his pod from the air and holds it at arm's length. "Why would you tell her that?"

"Unit 9S' curiosity is at times problematic."

9S shakes the pod.

I rub my eyes behind my visor. This is going to be a long mission. I stop walking and 9S almost bumps into me. "9S, is there anything you need to do before we begin the mission?"

He taps his head. "Maybe."

"What do you mean, maybe?"

"I might go see what's up with 801S."

"A . . . friend?"

"Huh?" He averts his gaze. "Well, yeah, kinda—but I need to see if he has any new plug-in chips."

"I see."

He lets his pod float free. "I'll grab you some, too. Making sure you've got the most up-to-date chips is part of my role as your support, after all."

"Yes, do that."

"I will meet you in front of the hangar in fifteen minutes." He salutes me, hand to chest, and then turns and heads down the hall.

I have something I need to do, too.

* * *

**9S**

On the way back from visiting 801S—that android is weirdly grabby—and securing some shiny new chips, I pass Operator 21O's room and curiosity plagues me.

Maybe she's here.

I approach the motion sensitive door and say, "Oh, Operator?" in a sing-song.

Whoa!

She's here.

She's sitting at her desk. She has turned sideways to see me. "Oh, no."

"What?" I put a hand to my chest, wounded. "I've come to say 'goodbye'. I'm heading to the surface."

"Well, off you go then."

So heartless.

I zip to her terminal, where I can purchase handy items. I don't really need anything, but I've gotta look like I have a purpose and all. "Aren't you gonna see me off?" Her room is like all our rooms—immaculate and empty aside from books. She has probably read all the books in the Bunker by now.

"When have I ever seen you off? And why are you using my terminal? You have one in your own room." She sounds cool, as usual.

I click randomly through selections, leaning my elbows on the podium. "It was convenient this way. Passing by, I heard you call my name, I need items, here we are."

"Call your name?"

"Yes." I straighten with a grin. "You called me in here."

"I did no such thing. Perhaps you should check your auditory sensitivity."

"Maybe it was wishful thinking."

"9S. You have somewhere to be."

"And you only know this because I came in here to say 'bye."

Her fingers twitch like she's holding back from strangling me. 21O could do with an upgrade to her patience threshold.

She controls herself and raps her fingers on her desk, crossing her legs. "Thank-you for telling me you are leaving, but I've already been updated. I am your operator, after all."

She's a 21, so her personality has been programmed to be similar to other 21 models. Apparently this is the most effective personality for time efficiency.

Still, Operator 21O possesses a curiosity that is unique to her. Although, as YoHRa soldiers, we've got similar personalities to other models of the same number, we are each our own, different person. I've never met another 21 I like to tease as much as 21O, for example.

"What, 9S?" she asks.

I've been quiet too long which is probably suspicious to her.

I shut off the terminal. "I understand. I've read between the lines."

She jolts. "Pardon?"

"Yup, I understand it's hard for you to see me off." I dawdle my way to the door. "Don't miss me too much, Operator! I'm only a call away."

"Just get out."

* * *

**2B**

Operator 6O won't lift her head. "Ah, yes. I'm afraid that's how it is, 2B." Her face is half hidden behind her mask, but her voice is tense.

6O is not unlike 9S in that they both have issues keeping their emotions in check.

It's a strange thing. YoHRa members have instructions to keep emotions inside, and yet we've been programmed to feel them. It was likely to balance us out. We need emotions as much as we don't need them, and we're stuck in a limbo of contradictions.

I'm quite good at balancing, at least, but for units like 6O—sometimes it's hard to listen to her.

I've asked about the fates of the YoHRa squadron from the previous mission. The ones who were shot down before the mission even had a chance to take off.

7E was the only unit that was able to return, her black box in tact. The other units are missing.

When a YoHRa's fate is unknown, they aren't able to be retrieved. 9S and I—we'd signalled the bunker that we would be detonating our black boxes, so they were able to put a failsafe in place that would provide us to return with a new body. Download the black box information into a new one. The moment 9S and I touched our black boxes together was the same moment data transfer was executed—although sometimes, this may fail, and that is why it is a risky move. It's also expensive, but preemptive decisions like this can make all the difference for YoHRa units.

"I see. I'll be on the surface soon." I smooth my dress as I stand from my operator's desk chair. "I doubt I will find myself back at the factory, but if I do, I'll take a look around."

"That would be helpful, but remember the mission takes precedence." Operator 6O has just woken up, but she has already downloaded the mission information. "Make sure you go straight to the Resistance Camp. The surface is dangerous."

"Right." I head to the exit. "Operator, do you happen to know a unit named 16D?"

Operator 6O hesitates. "Oh! I do, in fact. She's assigned to the hangar right now."

"I see. Thank-you."

"I'll transmit to you as soon as you're in the air, 2B."

I leave her room and flex my hands. The hangar, then.

9S is waiting in front of the elevator to the hangar, bickering with his pod.

"9S." I stop next to him.

"2B!" He cuts his pod off and holds out a handful of chips to me. "801S has a bunch of stuff. I had to fast analyse and now my head kinda hurts, but I've gotten you some pretty great enhancements. 2B, do you know what weapons you're gonna use? Because then I can match it with—"

"My usual."

"Huh?"

"My usual weapons."

His shoulders slump. "2B, you know your usual weapons, but I—"

"Virtuous contract and virtuous treaty."

He nods, sombre, and picks through the chips with precision. "Then this, 2B. This, this, and maybe this? Should I install them?"

"I'll do it myself."

"Roger that." He hands me the chips and then steps aside, into the elevator.

I follow him on, installing the chips as we go up. He has picked chips that will enhance the effectiveness of my swords, and some for defense and natural enhancement—like how fast I can move. He has covered a lot in a short amount of time. As always. Thorough.

What types of chips does he prioritise for himself?

He is pretending to be engrossed by the door in front of us.

He catches me looking, smiles, and then looks away.

We reach the hangar. I step off and 9S follows me through the room. I go off track, to three YoHRa members who are stuck in a discussion. 9S stays close and doesn't ask why I've strayed.

"Excuse me."

The YoHRa units turn to me.

"Is there a unit called 16D here?"

"Oh." A defense model points over my head. "Near the flight units."

The other two androids are staring at 9S with apprehensive expressions.

How long ago was his tampering incident, exactly?

I head towards the D unit. Her hair is short and purple, and when she notices me she hurries to meet me. I remember her seeing us off before the last mission.

"2 . . . B? Is that you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Thank goodness." She has a round, kind face. "My name is 16D. My instructor, 11B, was one of your squadmates in the assault on the abandoned factory. I don't suppose she . . ." She trails off. The way she's looking at me, with this accented hope. I hate this.

"She was shot down during the battle," I say, and beside me, 9S flinches.

She takes a slow step back, her expression contorted. "I . . . I see." She takes another step back. "What a shame. She was the closest thing I had to a mentor." She's silent for a moment. "She was so strong and admirable. What happened to her body?"

"I don't know."

She surveys me. "I know it isn't my place to be asking you this, but—well, if you happen to run across anything of hers, would you mind bringing it back to me?" She's quick to add, "It's not a priority or anything. Just if you have time."

"I'll keep an eye out."

"Thank-you."

I walk past her.

I've already spoken to Operator 6O about the possibility of 11B being alive, but—just in case—"Pod, do we have any information about 11B's black box?"

There may be an update.

My pod strays to my side. "Negative. 11B's black box has yet to be recovered."

Ahead, the flight units are waiting.

9S trails behind me. His excitement over the flight units has tapered off. Maybe he did not like my conversation with 16D, but that is a conversation YoHRa units should be used to.

We fight. We die. It's what we do. He said it himself—we're soldiers and we take pride in our service.

"Are you ready, 9S?" I ask.

His head snaps up. "Yeah. Let's go."


	5. Chapter II: City Ruins 1

**Chapter II: City Ruins 1**

**9S**

We land atop an old, foliage-covered building.

The trek to the Resistance Camp, according to our map data, is a fair distance away. What a pain.

2B rolls her shoulders and arches her back. "According to my operator, the enemy is here." She stretches her arms out. Riding in aerial units is cramped. "We don't want to land near the Resistance Camp and tip the machines of their location." She reaches high into the air now. "9S?"

"Right." I tie my visor tighter around my head. First thing's first. We can't have our flight units hanging around. I set coordinates for them to return to the bunker on autopilot while 2B checks our surroundings for machines.

The air is great. We're up high and it's cool and calming. I spread my arms a little. A cloudy day, but sometimes the sun peaks through. The surface is something else.

Our flight units take off and my hair blows back from the momentum.

"It's so nice to—" I cut myself off. 2B is gone.

Where did she wander off to?

A spike rises in me. I hop onto a higher part of the roof top and find her at the edge of the building, peering down.

She can't be—

She jumps.

"Hey, 2B!" I rush to the edge. She's using her pod to glide down, but seriously, that's over fifteen storeys.

"Well, Pod." I hold my hand out to Pod 153. Looks like she's not going to take any scenic routes.

"Affirmative."

We descend.

Never mind. This a pretty scenic route.

My pulse hammers. It's kinda fun. The wind passes across me and I shut my eyes for a moment—but only a moment—because as soon as we land, we have to be alert.

The city can best be described as broken.

Buildings caved in. Bridges missing pieces. Ruins, really. The place is in ruins. There are trees and roots everywhere.

And yet, this is all I've ever known old world human cities to be, and there's something beautiful and quaint about it. Walking through something that used to bustle with human life, and now—now it's like this. Whispered and lonely where only lost memories exist.

I land, out of breath even though I haven't exerted myself.

The grass. The fractured pavement that surrounds the field we're in. There are animals.

Moose. Moose!

2B is walking ahead.

I jog after her and then fall in step. "According to my intel, none of the enemies in this area are hostile."

She glances at me.

"We've been seeing more and more enemies like this." I tap her arm with the back of my hand and gesture ahead. "See? They just stand there and stare into space. It's pretty weird."

"They seem to know we are here," she says, "and yet . . ."

"Yeah, no aggression."

They just wander around, aimless.

"Well, whatever. We'll leave the space cases be." She indicates to our left. "See, there. Hostiles."

There's a group of small stubbies in the distance attacking one of our transport terminals.

Transports are disguised as vending machines, but it looks like these machines have figured out, at the very least, that the vending machines are kind of suspicious.

I grimace. "Well, look at that."

2B breaks into a run and I follow. I instruct my pod to begin shooting, and by the time 2B reaches the machines, it only takes her a quick moment to dismantle them. She really is incredible in battle. Her movements are quick, fluid, and precise. I stand back and analyse her attack data. I need to store this, especially if we're going to be partnered together for a while. It'll benefit us both to have this data.

I falter. I already have her attack data. Loads of it, stored in Pod 153.

Right. 2B and I have worked together before.

She straightens and frowns at me. "9S, what are you doing?"

"Uh, analysing."

"Analysing what? They're all already dead."

"Oh. You, 2B."

"Me?"

"Yes. Your attacking style."

She looks lost. "You analyse something like that?"

"It's important!"

Her expression is skeptical.

I wave the screen away. I'll have to go through that when we get some downtime. I didn't think to before, because—well, it didn't cross my mind that I'd have attack data from her already.

"Anyway, we should make sure this transport is in working order." I approach the vending machine, stepping over a machine head in the process, and access the terminal. "Oh, nice. Looks like I can update our map data from this."

"Great."

"Map data, huh?" I sigh. Even though it's updated, it's still not as accurate as it should be. "It's hard to get an accurate picture from this. Our satellite resolution isn't so hot. Hopefully they deploy some new satellites soon."

2B lets her swords materialise at her back, floating behind her. "A general idea is good enough."

I laugh a little. "You don't let anything get in your way, do you?" But does she understand how much more effective our satellite resolution could be? I mean, with all our technology, this shouldn't even be an issue. We should have sharp images and absolute accuracy. It's kinda like the flight units. There are improvements that could—

Crap.

2B is halfway down the field. She's sprinting.

I launch after her.

* * *

We can see it.

The Resistance Camp.

It's past a stream and up a hill, but there's metal sheets placed upright to hide the entranceway. It wasn't too far, after all. Well, if you consider 2B barrelling ahead at full speed, I'd say we've gotten here pretty quick.

S models aren't used to blazing our way through terrain like combat models are. Speaking of which—

"2B. I appreciate you saving time with the whole, ah, jumping off our starting point, but—"

"What is it?"

"It's not very subtle."

"Subtle?"

The indifference in her voice concerns me. She really doesn't get it.

I slide my pod a wary look. "What if you'd jumped right into the centre of hostile machines, worst case scenario?"

"Then I'd kill them."

"Right. What if they were really dangerous?"

"Then I'd still kill them." She turns, walking backwards for a moment, to regard me. "9S, remember, I'm a battle class. Killing machines is my job. If you're going to tag along, you should support me."

If I'm going to tag along? I don't have a choice. She's my assignment. "Roger that, 2B. I'm just saying, sometimes going around the enemy is just as effective."

"How will I kill machines if I avoid them? How is that 'effective'?"

I guess. I guess, for her, destroying machines is what she's made to do. I was made to kill them but not in that flashy, violent spiel like she does. Gathering intel for me is just as vital as killing. She doesn't know the importance of that balance.

The objective of our mission is to gather intel, but how am I meant to do that if she's blasting through all the machine specimens?

I'll have to talk to her about this more in detail once we reach the camp.

Still. Why are we partnered? Not that I mind. It's nice having a partner, even if she's a bit curt. But—why?

"Hey, 2B?

She has drawn her small sword, readying to attack some machines in the distance if they attack us. But they see us—they are facing us—and aren't advancing. More dummies.

"What is it?" She straightens, relaxing.

"Why do you think they sent a combat model like you to do a recon job?" I follow her through the shallow stream. The water glistens from the sun's reflection. "If all they want is intel, we scanners are built for that kinda thing."

"Orders are orders." She walks past a machine life form that pays her little mind.

I stop next to it. "Alright, alright."

She watches me from her peripherals. "What are you doing?"

The machine is a small stubby. It's called a stubby but it's actually pretty big up close. It almost reaches my height and is twice my width.

Its focus is on my boots.

"9S?"

It's so close. Should I hack it?

But it's not hostile and it's just staring at my shoes.

"9S, are you going to kill it?"

I hesitate. "Well, no. I'm just running a quick real time test."

"If it attacks you, you have no defense right now."

"But it won't attack."

"How do you know?"

"It doesn't care about me."

"Then why do you care about it?"

I sigh and step away from it. I trek up the hill to 2B. "Really? It doesn't make you wonder?"

"It's just a defective machine."

"Yeah." There are five stubbies wandering in the water. To the left of the Resistance Camp is a small waterfall. Water rushes down and I get the odd urge to stand beneath it and let it run over me. It's like having a bath, except cold. Would it feel good? I want to try it, but 2B wouldn't really understand, and she already seems exasperated.

"9S?" 2B is near the metal sheets.

I jump and hurry to her.

"Why are you staring off into the space now?"

"Oh. The waterfall."

"What about it?"

"It's, ah, pretty?"

She stares at me. "Does everything distract you?"

"What? No."

She shakes her head and heads into the camp. I sigh and look back at the stream and the small stubbies that waddle around it.

The machine I stood with is now staring up at me, its round head angled up. Its eyes are yellow instead of gleaming red. Huh. Come to think of it, all their eyes are yellow in this area. Is that new?

I wave for good measure, and then freeze when it lifts one of its spindly arms.

What the—?

Was it trying to—?

No. That's absurd.

"9S? Really?" 2B calls back to me.

She's gonna dismantle me soon if I don't snap out of it.

I follow 2B into the camp.


End file.
